


Power of the kneeling man

by Chevy



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Angry Sex, M/M, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 01:39:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6403468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chevy/pseuds/Chevy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the episode where Marian is nearly hung as the Night Watchman, Allan and Guy clash as they struggle with their feelings for one another. (AU scene at the end)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Power of the kneeling man

“Did you do it for her or for Robin Hood?”

Allen jumped and dropped his belt, in the midst of stripping off for bed.

“God-! Damn…why must you-I mean, my lord, for the love of-”

He was propped against the bed frame, in his undershirt and breeches and boots, arms folded. The candlelight gleamed on the brown V of skin at his throat, curved shadows outlining his collarbones, the limp, messy curtain of his hair falling into his eyes.

“God?” He straightened. “King?” Now he was stalking towards Allen, wound tight and barely contained. “Country?”

The outlaw backed himself into the side of his dresser, upsetting the jug of water there. He turned just in time to catch it before it toppled.

“Did you think by saving Marion, you could just walk out of here and into Hood’s arms?” Guy stepped close to Allen’s back, hissing hot against his ear.

“Jesus” Allen breathed unsteadily.

“It was for God then” the Master-At-Arms snarled, stepping away from Allen and leaving him cold in his wake as he marched towards the door.

Sucking in a breath as his pulse thundered in his ears, Allen sagged on the dresser. “My world for it to be that easy” he said to his warped reflection in the burnished copper plate set onto the wall in front of the wash basin.

“What did you say?” demanded Guy, turning to face him.

“Nothing, milord, just…” Allen chortled humourlessly and turned around, perched on the edge of the dresser and flapped a hand dismissively, letting it come to rest on his thigh with a slap.

Guy stood in the candle light and glowered. “He’ll never take you back”

“And she’ll never love you” Allen spat, matching Guy’s nasty tone.

For a long moment, they stood and stared at each other, unmoving, both struggling through their own separately black moods. Finally, Guy turned and poured two goblets of wine. When he started back towards the outlaw, his face was perplexed.

“Why, then? If not for Robin Hood, then for Marion?” he asked, handing Allen his goblet.

The blond drained half of it in one breath, as Guy watched, transfixed by the shift of his bared throat.

“You couldn’t watch her hang” realised the Master-At-Arms.

“I couldn’t watch you watch her hang” Allen replied, holding Guy’s gaze unflinchingly. The blue of his eyes shone gold by the candlelight.

Guy was stunned quiet as his man drained the rest of his goblet and twisted to set it behind him. Allen was turned back to face the other man by warm, calloused fingers on his chin, hesitantly. Guy searched Allen’s face, his own expression open in a way that was as familiar to Marion and Allen as it was alien to everyone else who’d ever known the man.

“You did that…for me?”

For a few beats, Allen stared back at him, searching him too, and then a resigned look crossed his face. He reached a hand up to cup the back of Guy’s head and guided him down to his mouth, laying a short, deep kiss squarely on his lips before pulling back immediately. When he opened his eyes, Guy was looking at him like he’d shot him instead of kissing him. When the nobleman continued to say or do nothing, Allen looked away, picking up his goblet and gesturing with it while he spoke.

“You should go. I have to get drunk enough to forget I did that” When he tried to move past him, Guy’s hand shot out and made contact with his chest, pulling him up short.

Allen glanced down at his fingers, splayed out against his collarbone, the tips of a couple of his fingers touching the outlaw’s naked skin.

“Wait” Guy barked.

Allen exhaled heavily through his nose and waiting, spine stiff, parade rest. Beside him, Guy had frozen like his own hand had betrayed him. He was staring at the fingers that had come to rest on Allen’s bare skin.

“Guy?” bit Allen after what he deemed far too long.

The Master-At-Arms flinched and his fingers clenched tight in his shirt, taking his eyes to Allen’s. “Shut up” he ordered, using his grip on his shirt to reel him in, dropping the goblet in his other hand so wine spilt all over the floor. Allen had no time to protest before the taller man slanted their mouths together, hot, eager, commanding. When he yanked away from him, Allen was left gasping. The hand on his chest whispered up to curl around his throat, gentle pressure forcing him backwards until his arse hit the edge of the dresser again.

“Not bein’ funny, Giz, but what-”

“I thought I told you-” too close, too hot, too much. “-To shut. Up”

“I’ve never been too good at followin’ orders, t’tell the truth” Allen smirked.

Guy’s intensity was narrowed in on him, one hundred percent of the warrior’s brilliant focus wrapped all around him, from the hand still resting on his throat to the blunt pressure of his growing erection pushing against Allen’s thigh and the endlessly dark tunnels of his eyes drilled into him, searching him, claiming him, making way for the slick tattoo of his blazing, single-minded kisses. Without breaking from his plunder of Allen’s willing lips, Guy squared his hips against the other man’s and dropped his hands to his waist, caging Allen against the timber. The outlaw’s hands had been twitching by his sides, deprived of touch, unsure of these new rules. Guy pulled back for long enough to glance down and notice their spastic clenching at Allen’s thighs.

“Touch me” Guy ordered against his mouth, the command emerging far more breathlessly than he’d intended.

Allen’s mouth was too dry to voice the thousand snarky comments that leapt to mind, and his hands sprung up eagerly to touch planes of muscle he knew so well, but not like this.

Fucking, oh sure; they’d fucked. Guy had thought to humiliate Allen when he’d asked how far Allen would go to keep their arrangement secret, but the outlaw wouldn’t be cowed by sex.

“You don’ spend enough time in church if you don’t know how much power a person’s got on their knees” the outlaw had winked the first time he left Guy spent on an inn bed.

Seven, eight months? God, was it nine even? Since they’d fallen into bed, and they’d never once kissed. There’d been other things with their mouths, but they’d never kissed.

Guy’s fingers were trembling when he pulled Allen’s shirt off his shoulders and ran along his thighs to hoist him into sitting on the dresser. They gasped into each other’s mouths as Allen pushed at Guy’s trousers, palm to his hard cock, and then cracked the back of his head on the wall behind him when he threw it back, overwhelmed.

“Ah! Fucker! Shit” he swore, abandoning his work at Guy’s laces, both hands flying up to cup the back of his head.

“You oaf! Here, let me see” growled Guy, pressing a hand to the back of Allen’s neck to bow his head down and unlace his fingers.

“No, don’t it’s fine, it’s just-”

“Shut up Allen” snapped Guy, probing the injury none-too-gently.

With a wince, Allen managed to shake him off. “Honestly, it’s fine. Take it as a compliment” he added with his trademark crooked grin.

Guy sighed impatiently, rolling his eyes to high heaven, but behind the mask of irritation, there was real concern there, the same concern he’d felt in his heart when he saw the mask and cloak of the Night Watchman on the tower above where Marion was to have been hung.

Suddenly, it was awkward, with Guy standing between Allen’s splayed legs, trouser laces half undone and Allen’s shirt on the floor beside him. Their panting was caught up in the scanty space between them, so the air they breathed tasted like red wine and each other. The momentum had come to a screaming halt between them, leaving Guy to wonder what he’d been thinking.

“God help me…I…this is wrong” murmured Guy, hands turning to fists.

Allen immediately shuttered his face. “Yeah…well, I was already goin’ to Hell but you might be able to save your soul. Off you trot” he dismissed, pushing Guy back and picking up his goblet.

The taller man stumbled, surprised by the strength in Allen’s shove. Instinctively, he reached for him, but Allen swiftly dodged him, heading for the wine again. Guy watched him go, breathing hard. 

"Allen...please..." 

The outlaw turned around. 

* * *

 

 

 It had seemed like a brilliant idea at the time: the castle in the dead of night was easier to get into, they knew where Guy’s quarters were, and he had the key to Djaq and Will’s cage somewhere on his person.

So they’d sneak in, find the key, silence the Master-At-Arms, rescue their lads and be out before the sun even rose. Leaving John at the door to stand watch, Robin and Much slipped into the room. Much tiptoed to the desk in the corner while Robin unsheathed his dagger and slunk to the bedside, pushing back the hangings…and froze.

Allen-A-Dale was lying next to Guy, at least half undressed, face turned towards the other man, who had an arm lazily thrown over his narrow, naked waist. Guy’s face was half buried in his pillow, but there was worn-out contentment on his face that shocked Robin to his core.

Of the two men, Allen was more accustomed to the chance of being killed in his sleep, so of course instinct woke him first. His baby blues shot open and found the threat standing over him with a bared dagger a few feet from his face. His hand dropped towards the side of the bed, where his sword lay, but Robin dropped the point of the knife to his throat warningly. His Adam’s Apple bobbed and he slowly raised his hands, palms up, shooting a glance at his bedfellow as he stirred.

“Well, well, well. You do keep strange company, Allen” muttered Robin, deadly.

“Look, don’t hurt ‘im. Not like this, Robin, Christ” whispered Allen, pleading.

Robin shook his head, disgust dripping from his scornful mouth. He glared across the bed at sleeping Guy. Allen raised a hand and held the knife blade with shaking fingers, keeping it pressed to his own skin.

Robin felt his blood run cold; he knew that look in Allen’s eyes. That was Hurt me, kill me, break me, but don’t touch Marion. Don’t touch Much. Don’t touch them.

“If you ever loved me, do this for me. Key’s by the wash basin” said Allen desperately.

“Master, I can’t-Good Lord!”

Robin leaped across and clapped a hand over Much’s mouth as Guy stirred, with more life this time, his brow creasing into a frown. Allen curled over him, blocking his view of the outlaws, smoothed a hand over his hair and murmured something under his breath. With a sigh, Guy stilled once more. Still laying over Guy, Allen looked over his shoulder at his old friends, looking pointedly at the wash basin, where the key gleamed in the moonlight through the open window.

Robin grabbed Much’s attention, pressed a finger to his lip and then jabbed the same finger at the key. A second warning look silenced Much before he took his hand away from his friend’s mouth. Then Robin looked questioningly at the scene laid out before him, meeting Allen’s gaze searchingly.

_Is this why? Is this why you betrayed us? Is this love? Did you choose him over us?_

The man looked helpless under that scrutiny, swallowing and looking down at Guy’s sleeping form before shrugging defencelessly.

_I don’t know I’m sorry I don’t know_

His lips twitched in a sneer, but Robin nodded, grabbed Much and the key and left the room as silently as he’d come.

Allen watched despondently as the door shut behind them, leaving him chilled and uneasy, his throat tingling where Robin’s dagger had sat, his hand stinging where he’d gripped the blade too hard.


End file.
